That same month, while practicing a demanding chariot act in Otay Mesa, a horse broke his leg.

The animal was destroyed; Martonovich was fired.

He believes other, more personal factors, led to his dismissal: “I’m pretty sure at that point, it was about Tatyana. She didn’t want me around because I didn’t want her.”

When they heard that Martonovich had been axed, about 18 of the 25 performers left the show. And the Remleys could no longer use acts owned by Martonovich and his Big Horse Productions.

The couple hired Sylvia Zerbini, another ex-“Cavalia” performer and horse trainer. She had two months to rewrite the show, hire more performers, finish rehearsals and move the show to the fairgrounds — by mid-November.

Because that’s when “Cavalia” would hit San Diego.

In the flashlight’s beam

In the tight-knit horse community, some doubted that the Remleys’ show could dethrone its rival.

“It seems a little crazy to go up against ‘Cavalia,’ which has been doing it a long time,” said Erpelding, California Riding’s publisher. “There’s only so much disposable income that people are going to spend on horse shows.

“And if you are going to see just one, which one would you see?”

But the Remleys’ strategy was for “Valitar” to match “Cavalia’s” buzz and ticket sales in San Diego. Both shows scheduled local runs from mid-November through Jan. 6. Then “Cavalia” would go abroad.

Thus, Tabasa said, “‘Valitar’ would have the run of the United States.”

“Valitar,” though, opened to reviews comparing it unfavorably to its rival, playing just 23 miles away.

“‘Cavalia,’ ” U-T San Diego critic Pam Kragen wrote, “feels like what ‘Valitar’ could be when it grows up.”

The show’s first weekend ended without sellout crowds packing the 2,200-seat tent. Still, the show’s ticketing manager — a former Ticketmaster and Live Nation employee — saw no reason to panic.

“I think they expected more,” Christine Lawrence said of her former employers. “Being new to the business, never having done entertainment, I think they didn’t know what to expect.

“You have to build up the clientele.”

That clientele only had a short time to find “Valitar.” Six days into the show’s run — the day before Thanksgiving — Lawrence came to work to find that the Remleys had closed the show.

“I was as surprised as anybody else when I came in that morning,” she said. “I hadn’t been paid for three weeks.”

“Valitar’s” crew was paid every two weeks, but the checks stopped in November. The Remleys also canceled contracts they had with Imperial Beach landlords and the Del Mar Hilton, where some employees were housed.

Fearing the worst, Tabasa hurried back to the Hilton. Her passkey no longer worked.

“Mark had closed out our rooms overnight,” she said, “while we were sleeping.”

Horses and riders were stranded, their plans of a national tour — and almost a year’s employment — shattered. Vendors such as Baumgart, the interior designer, hurried to the fairgrounds, laboring around the clock and — because the Remleys had canceled the utilities — in the dark.